


Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

by Always_Bottom_Derek



Series: Sweetness and Scars [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Seriously..., Ugh... Fluff..., please save me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/pseuds/Always_Bottom_Derek
Summary: The sheriff watches Derek sleep and finds it sexy. There are feelings in there too, somewhere.That's about it.





	Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Benn_Xavier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benn_Xavier/gifts).



> Every now and then, because he's a good guy, Benn_Xavier challenges me to cut some of my dark Derek fics with a piece filled with sugar and light. 
> 
> Can't say that's an easy feat and while I generally accept his charge with grumbling good humor the result always leaves me uneasy.
> 
> Regardless, here it is for your perusal.

There were a lot of things John enjoyed but creative writing, he was learning, was not one of them.

Sitting on the newly-finished Hale house's back deck he cursed Derek under his breath for encouraging him to sign up for this stupid BHCC creative writing class. But relieved of duty until his shoulder healed and bored out of his mind, he'd been desperate enough to do anything to break the tedium.

_"All your experiences... And you keep saying how you could write a better detective story than the ones you've been reading..."_

Recalling Derek's words John cursed again, but at himself this time: for his pride and for not remembering how susceptible he was to suggestion after a good fuck.

(Despite all their differences, Derek and Claudia had at least this in common.)

He snarled back at the accusatory glare of the open document on the screen of his laptop. Its emptiness was only giving him a headache and his latest assignment was due tomorrow. He was supposed to write a thousand words about something that moved him.

What the hell was he going to do for that?

He rubbed his temples and sighed. He wasn't stupid, he got it. And, although it would surprise many, he was moved by things all the time both out in the world and on the page. But expressing this in writing?

Well, articulating emotion or any sort of sensitivity really...  Just wasn't his thing.

It wouldn't have been so maddening if he didn’t care about the assignment, but he did. Derek had given him a challenge and he'd accepted it. Planned to finish it too, for that matter. He’d never given up on anything.

But he didn't just want to do it, he wanted to do this well. Too bad he didn't have a fucking poetic bone in his body.

Seated in one of the new patio chairs Derek had recently bought to celebrate the deck's completion, John leaned back. Dressed in nothing more than a pair of grey camo-pants and his bandages the chair’s cool metal nipped the bare skin of his back. His shoulder ached fiercely.

Unwilling to surrender yet though, his calloused fingers tip-tapped the keys that spelled out “inspiration” while his mouth worried one of the narcotic lollipops Derek had gotten him at the pharmacy both as a joke and a reprimand at his 'childish' resistance to letting him pull his pain and his unwillingness to keep up with the pain pills the doctor had prescribed.

Then a noise caught his attention and John glanced over the glowing screen of the computer only to find his gaze arrested by the glow of Derek’s flesh.

He had surprised Derek earlier as he was bringing in the laundry from where it had been hanging out on the deck, drying in the soft heat of the late spring sun. Shoulder be damned, he had taken him right there. Had bent Derek over the railing so fresh it was still leaking sap and fucked him until Derek's ass wept its own salty stickiness.

With his long recovery from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, almost a week had passed between them since they’d experienced that kind of union. The build-up they shared had been great and the power of their release, profound. They'd collapsed on the deck afterward (John only slightly gently), their limbs tangling atop the no-longer-fresh sheets Derek had been carrying.

It had been, as every time was for John these days, glorious.

They'd lain there long enough he’d roused again and fucked Derek there in the sheets under the sun. Sucked him off after too, apparently exhausting Derek with his attentions to the point that his boy was left sleeping, even now, still completely naked amidst their crumpled soiled linens.

John didn’t begrudge Derek the rest though. What with the nursing, the worry, and the ongoing house construction Derek could more than use the nap. Besides, it gave himn the chance to study him while he slept. It was one of his guilty pleasures, this somnophiliac voyeurism.

He had always thought that it was in Derek’s sleep that the pureness of his lover's spirit was most clearly revealed. There was no trace of his monstrous heritage whatsoever. If anything, Derek’s countenance became so ethereal it even bypassed the human when he was lost in his dreams.

Like right now…

Sex-tousled dark locks curled this way and that. A few strands still damp from their exertions clung to Derek's smooth brow. Where his lips were normally thin, John noted the fullness of his kiss-bruised mouth.

The way the sun hit his lover, from where he sat, John could see streaks on still-flushed cheeks left by the dried tears Derek had cried taking his cock. Even now, one tear had not fallen and remained behind in the corner of one of a closed eye, snared in thick lashes.

But the light didn’t just highlight Derek’s past tears, it embraced him and gave a haloed edge to his outline.

Under its glow, lying on his side, one leg slightly bent, this posture gave a delicious twist to Derek's narrow hips.  All the construction work he’d been doing combined with his usual exercise regime showed beautifully in the thickness of his hairy thighs and the ridged contours of his muscular belly.

Derek had one arm stretched out before him. His other arm was bent, bit of a sheet was balled in the grasp of his fist. His strong fingers curled like a child’s, tucked slightly under his chin.

A shadow caught beneath Derek's jaw emphasized the masculine angularity of his face, the length of his neck. Then a sudden shift in the light grazed the side of his limbs in just such a way that for a moment, the soft, dark fuzz on his forearms was highlighted.

Something in the dreamy innocence of all this made John's heart begin to flutter madly.

Caught in the folds of the wind-starched sheets, lost amidst their white drapery, Derek looked like a sleeping god. His rough-cut beauty reminded John of Grecian marble: stone polished smooth by loving hands, exquisite lines carefully carved by a master. Only the subtle motion of Derek's breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his deliciously flat belly, indicated that this sculpture was indeed flesh.

The residual trails made earlier by an eager tongue licking up Derek's glorious torso were still visible too. John's eyes followed these up, alighting on the dark petals of Derek's nipples.

Gaze shifting, he followed the path his licks had left behind until they merged with the fine dark line that started just under Derek’s navel and led down traveling below his waist. A gentle peak of material obscured his view of his lover's most intimate parts, the velvet bag of Derek's heavy balled sac, the post-passion flaccidity of his large and delightfully responsive member.

As though sensing his heating thoughts, Derek's eyes opened slowly. Always weighted, John felt his boy’s stare upon him immediately and lifted his eyes from Derek’s groin to meet the verdant gaze.

John held his breath: it was like having a deer wander into one's garden. He remained completely still, not wanting to startle his wild, lovely creature into flight. Surprisingly, rather than rising in a flurry of motion with declarations of how much needed to still be done, or asking if he needed anything, Derek continued to lie there regarding him from beneath heavy-lids. His eyes were still slightly glazed from drinking, so recently and so deeply, the intoxicating liquor of lust.

The corners of Derek's mouth subtly curled up and John was stunned to hear a satisfied growling sigh escape from behind tender lips. Then Derek's eyelids drifted slowly down again and he turned his head slightly, nestling back in.

Hands stilled above his keyboard, John looked back down. His fingers had typed out every thought that had come into his head since he’d started watching his lover sleep. He read over it and while it definitely more than dipped a toe into the purple pools of prose, it wasn’t half bad, even if he said so himself. Plus, it just exceeded the minimum word count.

And it was, after all, definitely a subject that moved him.

John looked up from his writing and studied Derek another moment. He gazed back at the screen and frowned. In a single fluid motion, he highlighted all the text he had just typed. Standing up, stiffly, he slipped out of his pants again and draped them over his chair. He pulled the empty sucker stick from his mouth and lay it in the table. Then he pressed the delete button.

The screen went blank again.

Moving over to Derek, he slowly lowered himself and lay down beside him, carefully arranging himself around muscular limbs. Draping his wounded arm over Derek's shoulders, he nestled his pale head over the top of the unruly dark one.

Doing this, John found himself blissfully enveloped. The afternoon's lengthening rays stroked the cool skin of his back. Against his front, he was warmed too as Derek pushed back, snuggling into him.

John breathed in the scent of Derek's skin: of sweat, and soap, and sex and sun. And he decided in that moment he’d write some shit later about cold beer and baseball.

Now, he hadn’t deleted what he wrote out of some homophobic fear, he could give a shit about what people might think of his relationship with Derek Hale. The reason he's erased his writing came from the sudden understanding a thousand words was not enough to express what the man in his arms meant to him.

But even if he had all the words in the world, John realized too he was stingy. The real truth of the matter was he simply didn’t want to share Derek, even in words, with anyone else.

“Get your writing done?” Came Derek’s sleepy mumble.

“No babe, but I will,” John murmured back, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “Don’t you worry.”

“About you? I never do…”

John snorted at this. “Don’t have to be a wolf to hear that lie, son.”

Derek smiled and turned his head just enough so they could kiss. That was all the further he was willing to take the conversation before he lay his head back down. John knew that the hard deck would be hell on his aches in a bit, but for the moment he just gathered Derek closer.

He sighed when he felt Derek pull some of his pain. “Derek, we talked about this."

“Hush, old man,” Derek growled, “and let me enjoy the moment,”

Finding in his writing he'd apparently depleted himself of enough words to fight back, John simply acquiesced with a quiet “Mmmmmm," closed his eyes, and joined in.

**Author's Note:**

> I am going back in my dark porn cave now. The sunlight hurts my eyes.


End file.
